


nothing.

by chemily



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Depression, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, tw for all those things just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3231110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemily/pseuds/chemily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, um, you see, Laura, sometimes people can be afflicted with certain emotions and issues that a Floor Don, or any person really, can break certain moral or legal codes to help with.”</p>
<p>“I’m not following.”</p>
<p>“Laura, Carmilla might be depressed.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing.

Carmilla had one leg out the dorm room door when she heard a call from the bathroom. “Can I borrow your philosophy text today? I have to read before class.”

“Yeah, it’s the black leather book on the corner of my bed,” Carmilla shouted back without turning around. She was already late to her morning class and she didn’t exactly have the time to chat with Laura. “I have to go though, so if you have any questions, I can answer them when I get back.”

“Okay, that works, thank you!” A door slammed shut, the jackets that hung from it smacking softly into its frame. In all fairness, Laura didn’t need help with her intro to philosophy class. She was taking it to complete one of her core requirements and she liked it enough but the 101 level didn’t challenge her at all. However, she asked Carmilla about it a lot, because of the way her face lit up when she was discussing philosophy. The required reading for the class was a series of different books, all of which belonged to Carmilla’s personal collection, both in English and in their original languages.

_“But is there_ anything _as satisfying as reading Nietzsche in the native German?”_

_“Eating a whole box of cookies, finishing a really good fanfic, realizing your show comes back on TV soon...” Carmilla gives Laura a pointed look, one that blatantly reads_ Seriously? _Laura shrugs. “Besides, Nietzsche is kind of a downer.”_

_“Whatever gets you to sleep at night.”_

Laura sat on Carmilla’s bed and reached for the book. It was old and bound loosely with a leather hardcover. Laura opened the cover to the title page to read “Der Wille zur Macht.” The rest of the book followed suit and Laura groaned. _Leave it to Carmilla to give me the German version as a joke,_ Laura thought to herself. _She knows I can’t read this._

Laura decided to look for the book herself. She started on Carmilla’s desk and her books that lined the drawers. Carmilla was so well read that it occasionally embarrassed Laura. When they were lying in bed, tangled in each other’s arms, Carmilla would sometimes close her eyes and exhale a quote about love into the silence.

_“’Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.’”_

_“That’s beautiful.”_

_“Brönte.”_

_“You know, there are times when I like to just sit in the bliss of your words.”_

_“I wouldn’t want to plagiarize, my dear. And I don’t want you getting any ideas about my ability to write. But I am sorry that I can only quote what I want to say. I’ve always been terrible with emotions.”_

_“All that matters is that it’s you saying it. I just want you to be honest.” Laura smiled and kissed her gently. “Just speak from your heart and it will be beautiful.” Carmilla sighed._

_“You never cease to amaze me.” Carmilla kisses her forehead. “’Each time you happen to me all over again.’”_

_“See?”_

_“Wharton.”_

Laura forgave her, naturally, for her lack of originality. She truly was trying to open up to Laura, and Laura couldn’t fault her for that. Also, there was something about living for over 300 years and reading so much that Carmilla couldn’t help but quote things from time to time. When you’re exposed to that much language so consistently, you find it hard to organize words in sentences that haven’t been said before.

Regardless, it was annoying to be dating such a well read individual when looking through her stacks of books and not being able to find anything resembling the book she needed. Most of the books were labeled on their spines but occasionally, Laura had to lift one from the rest to figure out what it was. A manuscript of some of Freud’s earliest work was among the pile and Laura shook her head. Carmilla would have that lying around, though she probably found it humorous rather than useful (since Freud was mostly a hack and had very primitive views on women, homosexuality and the scientific method). She also had a book that seemed to contain scores from Mahler’s work. Laura would later need to ask if Carmilla frequented the Café Landtmann with these famous people.

The last book she lifted from the pile with a more modern leather book. It was black and was in pretty good condition, relative to the other books that Carmilla owned. Laura opened to the first page where there was a script text that Laura knew belonged to Carmilla’s hand. This wasn’t out of the ordinary, since she wrote in all of her printed books, especially the more modern ones. It was when she flipped the page that she realized what she had in her hands.

_„3. September:_

_Ich fühle mich schlecht. Ich fühle mich so schlecht, dass ich es nicht in Worte fassen kann."_

_„21. September:_

_Ich hätte niemals irgendjemandem vertrauen sollen. Ich hätte es besser wissen sollen._ _“_

_„7. Oktober:_

_Nichts fühlt sich schlechter an als diese Traurigkeit. Nichts ist schlimmer als sich so traurig zu fühlen._ _“_

_„_ _28\. Oktober:_

_Es ist irgendwie witzig, diese Ironie. Ich will wieder lebendig sein um sterben zu können.“_

_„13. November:_

_Ich lese den ganzen Tag lang, weil ich verreisen will. Doch bin ich noch hier._ _“_

_„20. Dezember:_

_Laura ist der beste Roman den ich je lesen durfte. Sie macht mich zu etwas besserem._ _“_

Laura saw her name and knew it was some sort of journal, but that was all she understood. That and the dates which were easy to figure out, even though they were in German. She shouldn’t read this, she thought but she was so curious. Her name started the sixth entry and she couldn’t decipher anything else, but she knew that Perry could. She was halfway down the hallway before she even finished the thought and before she came up with a way to convince Perry to invade her resident’s privacy like that. Laura hoped for the best as she knocked on the door.

“One minute!” a call from behind the door rang. Laura looked down at her feet. She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be involving other people in this, definitely. She should have just pulled up Google translate and never left her room. But a part of her knew that a translating program wouldn’t properly untangle the words that Carmilla had written down. She was poetry; she was complex. Laura didn’t want to do this alone. The door swung open. Perry smiled, tentatively. “Oh, hi Laura, come on in.”

“Hi, don’t worry, it’s nothing supernatural,” Laura reassured. She looked over to Perry’s bed, which was the only one in the single room reserved for the Floor Don. “Hi, LaF.”

“Sup, Laura,” they smiled. Those two spent so much time together that it wasn’t even surprising to see them both in the room. Regardless of what they were to each other, they were happy being in the other’s presence nearly always and Laura respected both of them too much to pry. (Not that respect has ever prevented either of them from prying directly into Laura’s room and, as a result, into Laura’s love life.)

“So what can I do for you?” Perry asked.

“Um, I kind of wanted you to translate something for me. It’s Carmilla’s but it’s in German and I can’t read it.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it might be her journal or something, I can’t tell.”

“Laura, where did you find it?”

“In her desk drawer.” _Shit._

“As your Floor Don, I cannot read your roommate’s personal property. As per your roommate agreement that you signed when you both moved in, it clearly states that you mustn’t go into her belongings, which you clearly violated. By my honor code, I cannot help you commit a roommate crime.”

“But as your friend, I can totally help you read your girlfriend’s diary.”

“LaFontaine, you cannot do that, I will not allow it in my room,” Perry was flustered. LaF smirked to themself.

“Come on, Per, live a little,” LaF joked. “Let me see that.” They stretched out their arm and Laura handed them the book. LaF’s German wasn’t as good as Perry’s, since they had been learning through school while Perry grew up in a bilingual household. LaF’s lips moved as they raked through the words and a look of disapproval spread across their forehead. “Perry, read this.” The book was shoved in front of Perry’s nose.

“What did I just say? No, LaFontaine.”

“No, Perry. Ugh. You know how there are certain times when a resident’s personal property can be violated. Like in the case of…” LaF trailed off. Perry understood and started reading.

“In the case of what?” Laura was growing impatient as the other two started to look somber.

“Well, um, you see, Laura, sometimes people can be afflicted with certain emotions and issues that a Floor Don, or any person really, can break certain moral or legal codes to help with.”

“I’m not following.”

“Laura, Carmilla might be depressed.” Laura felt like she had been hit by a ton of bricks. When Laura’s mother had passed away, Laura had been young. She had felt sad at the time but she also saw her father. He moved around their house like a ghost, never making an impact and never being more than ambient. He didn’t laugh at jokes the way he used to. Sports didn’t make him yell out in happiness or anger. He didn’t cry over sad movies or stories in the news. He looked far off and distracted. Years later, he explained to Laura that he had suffered a depressive episode after her mother died.

At first, Laura didn’t understand. Being depressed was supposed to mean being sad, she thought. It was supposed to be crying and sadness and anguish. Laura’s dad explained that was part of the symptoms but other times it was just pure apathy. For him, and many others, it was feeling nothing. Laura had always been an emotional person. She cried at the end of every movie, cheered for people fighting odds that she didn’t even know, laughed for hours on end over the silliest punch lines. She didn’t know what it was like to feel nothing.

Her father attended therapy and took medication to take the edge off. It was temporary, as he soon found his footing and got his life back, even without his wife. Laura was also sent to therapy for a few years, just to make sure she was okay. She felt okay. She cried a lot and some days she wished she would wake up and the whole thing would be just a dream but it wasn’t and that made her cry more. But the days spent crying and wishing became fewer and farther in between and soon she resolved that she was truly all better. Her father followed suit.

So now, to see another person that she truly cared about feeling the same thing, and she didn’t even notice. She should have known. How did she miss it?

“What does it say?”

“Do you really want me to translate it for you?” It was a loaded question, really. Laura wanted to know what the book had to say, what Carmilla had to say, but she was afraid. She was afraid that it was going to hurt. She was afraid that she was somehow going to make it about herself and walk on eggshells around Carmilla. She was afraid that Carmilla was about to kill herself. She was afraid that Carmilla lived every single day in the agony that her father had lived in 10 years ago.

“Yes.”

“September 3rd, ‘I feel bad. I feel so bad that I can’t write a more beautiful word.’ September 21st, ‘I shouldn’t have trusted someone. I should have known better.‘“

“Is that about the chair tying incident?”

“Maybe.” _Fuck._ Laura fell silent and closed her eyes. _“_ Should I continue?”

“Yes, please.”

“October 7th, ‘Nothing feels worse than sadness. Feeling nothing is worse than feeling sad.’” That hit Laura like a punch to the gut. She saw her father feel nothing. It was much worse than feeling sad. “October 28th, ‘The Lustig isn’t high enough. I wish that I was alive so that I could die.’ November 13th, ‘I read all day long because I want to travel. I’m still here.’”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Laura choked out. She was crying. Perry hadn’t looked up the whole time, clearly hurt by what she was reading too. LaF looked out the window, holding back emotion.

“There’s only one entry left.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“December 20th, ‘Laura is the best novel that I’ve read. She makes me better.’”

* * *

 

The door swung open and Carmilla turned around quickly.

“What were you doing in my desk? What gives you the right to…Laura, are you crying?”

Laura nodded. Carmilla rushed to her side in a second, forgetting her tirade. She closed the door behind Laura and, with a hand on her shoulder and her wrist, she led her to the bed. “Hey Laura, Laura, are you okay? Do you want to talk?” Laura felt like she couldn’t breathe. She placed Carmilla’s book on her lap. “That’s my book.” All of the color drained from Carmilla’s face. She wasn’t sure if she felt mad or embarrassed or sad or something in between. “You…you read my book.” Laura nodded. “You told someone else about it, didn’t you? That’s why you were gone, right?” Laura closed her eyes hard. It was definitely anger that she felt. “Answer me.” That was a near whisper, but one with urgency.

“It...it was an accident, okay? I wanted to find the book you left out for me but I only saw the German one so I looked in your drawer and I shouldn’t have but I saw my name and I wanted to know what it said so I asked Perry but she wouldn’t read it so LaF did and they were worried and I’m worried and here.” She placed a pamphlet on top of the book. Carmilla looked at her then at the pamphlet and then back at Laura with a bare expression.

“What is this.” It was a question, but it surely wasn’t phrased like one. It felt like a demand when it hit the room.

“It’s about group therapy that the school offers. It’s kind of lame but it could help. I…I don’t know.”

“I don’t need your, or anyone else’s, pity.” The door slammed hard behind her as she left. Laura had forgotten how to stop crying.

* * *

 

It was 3 AM when Carmilla returned. It was nearly 12 hours since she left. Laura sat upright in a second, like a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun.

“Shit. Why are you still awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Carmilla nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Laura felt the tears pricking the bad of her eyes and it was hard to keep them hidden. She couldn’t have the conversation this way.

“Oh.”

“Please, Carm, can we just talk?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“The truth.”

“Okay fine. Most days I feel depressed. Some days, I feel like there is nothing in this world worth living for and that I would be better off dead. Some days I feel bored of everything and I have an overall displeased disposition. I don’t know what it’s like to be genuinely happy for more than a passing moment. I have a general fear of tight spaces because I was trapped in a coffin underground for many years. I have a general fear of intimacy because it was a person who pretended to care for me that put me into the coffin underground. I don’t know if there’s a way for me to be happy again and I’m sick of trying to find it. And even if I did find it, I’m not worthy of happiness.” Laura nodded.

“I understand what you’re saying. I hear what you have to say. But you do deserve happiness. You are so great and there is so much for you out there.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Me, for starters.” They both grinned, Carmilla’s being fake and superficial, though she was trying. “But gay people have so many more rights than they used to and cookies taste so good, and I don’t just mean the processed ones that are on my desk but like the ones that Perry makes and puppies are so cute.” Carmilla wrinkles her nose at that comment. “I mean, cats. Kittens are so cute and there’s so many cute animals to see and pet and there are so many sunrises and sunsets to see like even when you feel like you’ve seen them all, you see a new one and it’s so different and the stars will always be there, night after night, and even though those ones have died and exploded, new ones are forming in their place and the stars don’t care if you’ve screwed up because you’re so insignificant to them but it’s okay because you matter to the people who matter. You’re my sun.”

Carmilla was crying now, hard. Her chest faltered as it expanded and contracted, her shoulders shuddering through sobs. Her cheeks were wet and Laura felt them as she pushed her face into Laura’s chest. Laura held her close and no more words were exchanged.

* * *

 

“Hi, um, my name is Carmilla. I’m a first year studying philosophy. I guess that I’m depressed; I don’t have an official diagnosis or anything. I’m here because of my girlfriend. She makes me want to get better. She makes me feel like I deserve it.” Carmilla looked about the room. There were mostly girls, mostly battling depression. Two women ran the group, one having her PhD in clinical psychology, the other completing her masters in social work in the next semester or so. A few of the others tossed her shy smiles as she introduced herself. It was awkward but it felt freeing to admit her problems aloud.

“So these are feelings journals. I want all of you to write down what emotions you have and what brought them on. We will be discussing them next week.”

“What if you don’t, um, feel anything a lot of the time?”

“Good question! That can happen a lot of the time, especially during a major depressive episode. If that is the case, feel free to write that. You can also write down events that usually illicit an emotional response in you but don’t suddenly. Those will all be good things to talk about next week. And remember, if at any point you feel like you might do something very bad, the number for the suicide hotline is on your paper, as well as the main office for counseling at Silas for you to talk to someone. If you don’t have any more questions, we will see you in a week.”

* * *

 

“Did you finish your feelings journal?”

“Yes mom, I did.”

“Ew, don’t call me that! It’s by far the worst nickname you’ve ever given me.”

“Then stop nagging me! I’ve been going to group for weeks now, you think I don’t know the drill?”

“Okay, fine. And how has it been?”

“Lame but kind of okay. Some of the coping mechanisms are cool. And they seem to think I’m making progress. I think I might be, too.”

“That’s so good!” Laura wrapped her up into a hug and Carmilla smiled. She kissed her and looked into her eyes.

“I have been in love with no one and never shall unless it should be with you.” It was so soft that it floated on air. Carmilla exhaled it like it was the most natural thing she’s ever said. She held Laura’s gaze in her eyes the whole time.

“What book is that from?”

“It’s not.” They kissed again, a mutual smile breaking their embrace.

“You’re going to be late! Goodbye. I love you.”

Carmilla left the room and held the paper entitled “Feelings Log” against the wall, so she could add one last entry.

“Thursday, 1:45 PM: Happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Thanks for reading :) I meant this to be a short work but then it spiraled out of control and became a very long fic. I've read a bunch of pieces where people have Carmilla written as depressed or other things of that nature and it always frustrated me because it makes it like dating someone can fix all your problems (trust me, it won't). So I decided to write one that better explains depression and also shows that people can do things to get better, outside of their relationship. Personally, I've dealt with a lot of depression and I have attended group before, which is where I got some of the details from and I wanted to share my experiences while giving the characters something real that you can actually see in their portrayal. I also love thinking about Carmilla writing in German so I added that (I'm 3 semesters into learning German, so please work with me and I apologize for any blatant errors).
> 
> So, let me know what you think!


End file.
